ON A TRAIN JOURNEY TO FALMER We are approaching Berwick and as the train pulls in the clouds move solemnly over their slate grey frayed with trailing white through which the sun’s rays splay into a blue rinsed by last night’s hail and rain the next stop is Firle and now the huge clouds rise up darken spiral into white toppling towers that race over fields of yellow rape seed white blackthorn blossom startled magpies and today nothing can be grasped but it changes sublates mutates and there’s no noun monumental enough to encompass but blows off course or takes us in the dupes of grammar what to nominate but flux the blinding hail now hurtling down already gone14_nowhere.html
 
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